The Ferret's points story is live: Three Princesses: Finnia, part one
On the day she was caught, all but one of the band had gone early into town to trade and entertain, all crowded onto three caravans. One man was left to mind the fire and the remaining horses, the rusty-haired one named Connin. Finnia thought him quite the best-looking of the Traveler men, handsomer than the nobles at court who’d begun to make noises about marrying her. Odd, though, that he’d be the one left alone; Finnia knew he was the son of the Travelers’ leader--how strange, to be ruled by a woman!
When he seemed sure he was alone, Connin snagged a pottery jug cooling in the nearby creek; Finna had to crane to see what he was doing. To her surprise, he didn’t go back into the camp, but laid himself out in the clearing near her tree, lying in the dappled sun on a bed of grass with a cushion under his head. He took a swig from the small jug, let out a long, contented sigh, and then did the last thing she ever expected. He unfastened his leggings, and took out his cock.
She knew that’s what it was, because she had six brothers. When the younger ones had still been small, they had all played together naked in a dammed-up bit of the creek that ran closer to the Keep. She’d never seen a grown man’s before.
Once she got over her initial shock, she leaned forward, wondering what on earth he was about; as she watched, he pulled at it, again and again, until it stuck straight out. I had no idea they did that, she thought. She’d always wondered how it all went; her mother had told her somewhat how it went, and that she shouldn’t have anything to do with it until she was married or else she wouldn’t pass her Sister’s Temple examination, and that when the time came she wouldn’t find it unpleasant, and that in the end she’d have a baby from it. She reflected that her mother had twelve babies, so she must have liked it at least that much.
Connin gave it a long, easy stroke, playing with the loose skin around its tip, and groaned--almost a growl. The tip was quite red. “You’d have an easier time looking at it, Princess, if you’d just come down from that tree,” he said. “I’ll let you look your fill. You can even touch it if you’d like.”
Keep reading -->
When he seemed sure he was alone, Connin snagged a pottery jug cooling in the nearby creek; Finna had to crane to see what he was doing. To her surprise, he didn’t go back into the camp, but laid himself out in the clearing near her tree, lying in the dappled sun on a bed of grass with a cushion under his head. He took a swig from the small jug, let out a long, contented sigh, and then did the last thing she ever expected. He unfastened his leggings, and took out his cock.
She knew that’s what it was, because she had six brothers. When the younger ones had still been small, they had all played together naked in a dammed-up bit of the creek that ran closer to the Keep. She’d never seen a grown man’s before.
Once she got over her initial shock, she leaned forward, wondering what on earth he was about; as she watched, he pulled at it, again and again, until it stuck straight out. I had no idea they did that, she thought. She’d always wondered how it all went; her mother had told her somewhat how it went, and that she shouldn’t have anything to do with it until she was married or else she wouldn’t pass her Sister’s Temple examination, and that when the time came she wouldn’t find it unpleasant, and that in the end she’d have a baby from it. She reflected that her mother had twelve babies, so she must have liked it at least that much.
Connin gave it a long, easy stroke, playing with the loose skin around its tip, and groaned--almost a growl. The tip was quite red. “You’d have an easier time looking at it, Princess, if you’d just come down from that tree,” he said. “I’ll let you look your fill. You can even touch it if you’d like.”
Keep reading -->
No comments have been added yet.
